


the toaster and the screwdriver

by jelly_spine



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Kinda, M/M, Romance, Taeil-centric, mark and donghyuck won't admit they're in love with each other so taeil does it for them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 05:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9108646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_spine/pseuds/jelly_spine
Summary: In which Taeil narrates Mark and Donghyuck's pursuit of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by nct life in paju  
> also i love taeil  
> [newer (and improved) version](https://sugar-bloodline.livejournal.com/494.html)

After two days coped up inside one of the nine souls decides to venture out of the dorm, into the never-ending outpour soaking the pavement black. Taeil wraps Taeyong’s yellow raincoat around himself, then bends down with a great _squeak_ and proceeds to struggle with his boots.

Jaehyun leans on the wall, observing the other fall onto his bottom after a particularly brisk attempt to yank his shoe onto his foot. “Where are you going?” he asks in his docile manner. He helps Taeil up and holds him by the elbow to prevent another fall. “You could stay inside with everyone else.”

Jaehyun is a boy of mellow mien; every morning he awards himself a mental good-job sticker for getting up before noon, then right after breakfast he proceeds to babble about—you guessed it—soft things, like the neighbour’s cat or Doyoung’s uncanny resemblance to a bunny. He can’t seem to be bothered by going for a walk or even getting some food to fill up their empty fridge—but then again, neither was anyone else until Taeil decided he would rot if he didn’t get some fresh air into his lungs and something differing from cup noodles into his stomach.

Taeil rubs his bottom with a little grin, then straightens up and pulls his hood over his head under the other boy’s half-lidded gaze. “I think I’m going to choke on puppy love if I stay another second,” Taeil grumbles, fishing his keys out of his pocket.

Before the door closes completely Taeil manages to catch a glimpse of a sly smile gracing Jaehyun’s lips, from which he guesses the other knows exactly what and _who_ he’s talking about.

As expected, nobody roams the streets. The slosh of Taeil’s boots against the glistening pavement is the only one he hears all the way from the dorm to the nearest grocery store. He wanders up and down the aisles, his ears uncharacteristically void of someone else’s voice and chatter. Memories of the group’s summer escapades, sweet Donghyuck and Mark arguing over which watermelon to pick; of accompanying a slightly panicked Mark to the store in the middle of the night to buy tampons for Donghyuck’s relentlessly bleeding nose when nothing else seemed to help (“He isn’t going to—empty out, is he? _Please_ tell me he isn’t,”) pass through his mind. It’s strange, he thinks with a quiet chuckle, that he thinks about the others most when he isn’t with them—that the exact thing he wished to escape from comes to him, more startling and obvious than ever.

“Quite a storm,” says the amiable cashier.

“Yes,” Taeil agrees. He packs his purchases into a plastic bag and sets off after a polite wish for a good day.

A sharp wind tugs the hood off Taeil’s head with a large, sweeping hand. After three attempts to keep the hood on he gives up; when he wrenches his slightly bent key into the dorm’s door’s lock and steps inside his hair is plastered to his forehead, and thin trails of water sneak under the collar of his shirt. He finds everyone else’s shoes still in place, then steps over the neat row Taeyong can never pass without straightening, out of the foyer.

Ever energetic Donghyuck seems to appear out of thin air. “You’re like a wet dog!” he thrills.

In response Taeil shakes his head vigorously like an animal, drops of water flying around. The younger boy makes a shrill, excited noise and flees. In front of the bathroom’s door, however, he skids to a halt and gestures for Taeil to follow.

The younger of the two insists on towel-drying Taeil’s hair. “How’d you get so wet?” he inquires. Towel discarded, his fingers rub at the sides of Taeil’s nose and trace gentle circles on his temples in an inexperienced imitation of a massage.

“It’s raining outside,” Taeil replies.

Donghyuck laughs and follows up with a sarcastic, “ _No._ Really?”

The pair always has a way of closing the age gap between them. Quite peculiarly, they seem to meet halfway; Donghyuck grows less defying and sometimes even fragile, demure, while Taeil sheds the whole young adult’s attempted gravity, adopting the tongue of an adolescent.

Donghyuck likes to attribute it to their shared horoscope, but Taeil finds it a matter of balance between two characters.

They trudge to the kitchen and start unpacking the shopping. “I brought you something,” Taeil says, index finger in front of a conspiratorial grin.

Donghyuck looks so very young, so astoundingly unmarked by the passing of time when he looks at Taeil with a glint in his eyes that suddenly, like the click of a light switch, it comes, loud and clear, to the older of the two: the boy deserves the world. And because love is most certainly a part of the world, Taeil decides he’s fully prepared to push him towards it.

Taeil fishes two candy bars out of his plastic bag. Donghyuck tucks them away into his pocket with a smile, places the last four eggs into the fridge and leaves. Taeil listens to the soft tap of the teenager’s footsteps as he plods across the dorm. Someone else’s footsteps join his, then both stop.

It doesn’t take long before Mark runs into the kitchen, panting out, “Is the storm too bad to go out?”

Taeil looks at Mark’s blushed cheeks for a second too long. “No,” he finally replies. “No, it isn’t.”

 

 

 

 

 

Mark comes back soaked from head to toe, his teeth clattering.

“Why didn’t you take a rain coat?” Jaehyun asks him, leaning on the bathroom’s doorframe behind Taeil.

Mark lets out a preoccupied laugh. “Didn’t come to my mind.” The haze of distraction occupies his eyes, like a coat of mist over a broad landscape. Taeil wonders briefly if the brume might swirl and form something resembling the only other teenager living in the dorm.

Jaehyun turns to share a look with Taeil, rolling his eyes. They leave Mark and walk in single file to the living room, where everyone else’s watching television. The rain knocks on and slides off the windows like a visitor from whom the permission to enter has been denied, while the group of young men sits huddled on the couch.

Taeil squeezes in between Donghyuck and Doyoung. “Where’s Mark?” Donghyuck asks without taking his eyes off the screen.

“He’s taking a shower to warm himself up.”

Donghyuck’s gaze flickers in the direction of the bathroom. “He went outside?”

“Yeah,” Taeil chuckles. “But he didn’t think to put on a rain coat.”

Donghyuck laughs. The playful, mocking rise and fall of his voice barely conceals the gentle fondness at its core. “Dumbass,” Donghyuck says, but to Taeil it sounds more like a pet name than an insult.

Eventually Mark emerges from the bathroom. “I forgot to take a dry shirt,” he splutters when Yuta and Jaehyun poke fun at his naked torso. His fumbling hands and arms do a poor job of covering his chest, leaving vast expanses of skin bare.

From the corner of his eye Taeil sees Donghyuck’s keen eyes, and the puzzled flutter of his eyelashes when he pulls his gaze away. The teenager shifts and pulls his knees to his chest, jostling Taeil in the process. The blabbering sports presenter’s voice rises a pitch when a player scores on the television; a mad idea comes to Taeil.

“What is this confusing feeling in his chest, stirring at the sight of Mark’s embarrassment?” he starts dramatically, in a low voice meant only for Donhyuck. “Is it love? Or maybe only indigestion?”

Donghyuck looks at Taeil for a few confused, sticky seconds, then seems to realise what he’s doing, and stutters, “ _Stop it!_ ”

“A strange feeling itches at his chest—clothed, unlike Mark’s—and makes him want to shout,” Taeil continues to narrate. Every single drop of Donghyuck’s blood rushes up his neck, to his flaming cheeks and ears, as he swats at the older boy.

By the time Donghyuck manages to slap a hand in front of Taeil’s mouth Doyoung’s amused glance is on them. “What on earth are you two doing?” he asks.

From the corner of his eye Taeil sees Mark giving Donghyuck an on-off stare. “Nothing at all,” he replies with a knowing little smile.

Mark’s skin glows red; either the shower he took was scorching hot, or being caught staring at the other teenager provokes quite a blush.

 

 

 

 

“Mark Lee, seventeen years old and abroad-born,” Taeil narrates as he takes a seat next to Mark, who turns wide, confused eyes to him, “has probably never seen someone look so enchanting with a mouth full of pizza.”

“What?” Mark asks. He sets his slice of pizza down, then directs his full attention to Taeil.

“He does not understand what I’m talking about.” Taeil looks back and forth between Donghyuck, who’s seated at the opposite side of the living-and-dining room, and Mark. He repeats the action until Mark gets the message. “Although it’s painfully obvious—these suppressed feelings which have been suffocating me for the last few days—no, make it the last few _months_.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark claims, looking away, but his tight, white-knuckled hold on his plate gives him away.

“Oh, but he does,” Taeil continues. “And he knows how a certain Lee Donghyuck makes him feel. But he won’t admit it, no. For a reason I don’t know he wishes to keep this myriad of emotions to himself, even though it could be done and dusted just like that.”

“It’s not that simple,” Mark mumbles. Taeil feels somehow bad for driving him into a corner like this, but what has to be done, well, it has to be done.

“He just said he doesn’t know what I’m talking about!” Taeil exclaims.

Mark heaves a subdued sigh. “Donghyuck—he’s,” he starts, but seems at a loss for words. Quickly he backtracks and starts again, “Someone like him would never like me.”

Extreme fondness wells up inside Taeil, turning his insides into a tender mush. He doesn’t know what to say; there’s no describing young love, or how oblivious it can be.

 

 

 

 

 

The rainclouds seem to be permanently glued to the sky. They hang low, dark and oppressing, confining the group to their dorm.

Donghyuck makes the mistake of sitting between Mark and Taeil. “Teenage flesh against teenage flesh,” Taeil voices out. “The proximity cuts his breath short, like a pair of gleaming scissors at his throat, and leaves his thigh burning.” Donghyuck seems in a terrible hurry to get up. Unfortunately for him—or rather, _very fortunately_ for him—Mark’s already slung a leg over his knee (but only after careful consideration, as Taeil couldn’t help but notice.)

“Oh god,” Donghyuck sighs to himself, slumping down in defeat. “Not the narrating thing again.”

Mark perks up. “He’s done it to you, too?” he asks, turning to the other teenager.

“Hell yeah!” Donghyuck replies, elated at the prospect of someone sharing his annoyance.

The strange thing is, neither of the teenagers broaches the subject of exactly _what_ Taeil narrated to them. They complain about his use of the third person and the dramatic tone of his voice, but don’t mention the suppressed feeling he’s described, the white-hot knot of longing on the solar plexus he’s put into words the best he can.

“Love is stupid, love is blind,” Taeil chants. The teenagers’ complaints sizzle out as red dusts over their cheeks and their mouths twist in embarrassment.

 

 

 

 

 

Mark and Donghyuck’s personalities go together about as well as a toaster and a screwdriver. Their contrast—not unlike the one between night and day—culminates in the way they seem to talk following different tempos; Donghyuck a rhythmic teenage bop, Mark a rapper’s frantic ramble.

They can drive each other up the wall like no one else; they know which tender spots to prod, which subjects to invoke. Often their fights go a bit like this: Donghyuck, being the human form of a headache he is, says something infuriating and receives a hard shove or fingers jammed into his side. Most of the time the conflicts are brief and laughed off quickly, but just as they’re short-lived they’re frequent.

More curious still is the way they seem to supplement each other despite their differences, thinks Taeil as he observes the pair sitting by the window. Every other second Mark sneaks a glance at the other teenager, who in turn stares out of the window as they hum a soft tune together. Their knees bump, their palms are clasped together as if someone’s spread a hefty layer of glue between them.

Taeil tiptoes to them and crouches by Mark, so far undetected. “To kiss Donghyuck? Or not to kiss him?” he whispers.

Mark’s rough hum rises into a startled falsetto. His arms flail, making painful contact with Taeil’s nose. “What is it?” asks Donghyuck and looks at the others in turn, wondering what he missed.

“Nothing, nothing,” Mark jabbers. The look he throws Taeil is panicked and apologetic, maybe even angry about the near exposure.

Taeil cups his nose, but doesn’t whimper. Instead he bursts out laughing. He doesn’t stop before Taeyong emerges to see what the ruckus is about and drags him off to the kitchen.

“What the hell did you do to Mark for him to hit you like that?” Taeyong interrogates, taking some ice out of the freezer. He wraps the cubes into a cloth and hands it to Taeil. The latter thanks him with a nod, the warm glow of laughter still on his lips.

Taeil sighs when he presses the cold bundle to the bridge of his nose. “Told him the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That he desperately wants to smooch Donghyuck,” Taeil says, chuckling, “obviously.”

Taeyong seems a bit confused. “He does?”

“It’s obvious as daylight,” quips Jaehyun as he enters the kitchen and pads to the sink to get himself a glass of water. Taeil laughs; how typical of Jaehyun to have listened in on the conversation.

Taeyong’s eyes waver a bit unsurely. “They’re both boys, though?”

“Does it matter?” asks Jaehyun. Taeyong seems just as awkward as before so with a softer tone he adds, “If it makes you feel any better, Donghyuck would easily pass for a girl if we put a wig on him.”

Taeyong gives a hesitant little nod. “I guess it’s okay, yeah.” It’s obvious he isn’t exactly comfortable with the thought of a guy’s mouth against another’s, but the sunny side is that despite his traditional upbringing and lack of experience regarding such things, he’s trying to understand.

The heat of Taeil’s palm thaws the ice and water starts to seep through the cloth, onto his fingers. From somewhere towards the back of the dorm comes a big, loud _thump,_ then a bit later Mark’s obnoxious laughter.

“Are they wrestling?” jokes Jaehyun.

Taeyong looks up, horrified. In a second he’s gone, no doubt to what he likes to call the teenagers’ ‘lair’.

“Should we check on them?” Taeil asks without making a move to get up from his chair.

Jaehyun snorts. “Young people heal fast,” he muses dismissively and downs the rest of his water.

 

 

 

 

 

Mark comes to breakfast with large bruises blooming on his shins and elbows, like great blue-yellow flowers on his skin. He catches Taeyong’s eyes across the room and turns away, trying to hide a sleepy smile.

“Do you think the kids were really wrestling yesterday?” Jaehyun whispers across Sicheng.

Taeil shrugs. “It looks a bit like they were.”

The storm clouds finally clear after a week of darkness, making way to a pale blue sky. Prompted by Johnny, Taeyong announces an excursion to wherever a randomly picked bus will take them. To be sure they pack four umbrellas, even if Sicheng opens his mouth in scarcely heard protest. “It’s negative energy,” he stutters. “More rain will come.”

Everyone dismisses Sicheng’s warning as mere Chinese superstition. “Not with our little ball of sunshine around,” Doyoung chirrups, wrapping an arm around Donghyuck’s shoulders. Mark throws his head back in laughter.

 

 

 

The only person who seems pleased when raindrops start freckling the pavement is Sicheng. “Told you so,” he says in a matter-of-fact way as the others scramble to save their poor excuse of picnic food.

“Who taught you that?” screams out Yuta with his arms over his head.

There are enough umbrellas for three pairs and one trio. Taeil ends up standing alone under an umbrella; it doesn’t quite add up. He peers around the children’s playground the group somehow ended up in after they got off the bus, squinting through the quickening rainfall. When he spots only the three black circles of the other umbrellas he resolves to wandering under and around the installations, peeking around corners and climbing up ladders.

He finds Mark and Donghyuck trying to gorge each other down. The two teenage bodies are crammed into a play castle, no doubt uncomfortable but too _preoccupied_ to adjust their position.

Taeil halts. For some thirty seconds he ponders whether he should startle the teenagers away from each other and out of their little secluded world they seem immersed in. In the end his petty desire to tell them ‘I told you so’ as Sicheng just did gets the better of him.

“This is what they’ve been waiting for,” Taeil starts, his voice rising. “They lap at each other’s mouths like there’s no tomorrow, as if this all will be taken away from them the moment the rain stops—which is kind of disgusting, guys, just saying. All feelings and hormones run awry as stars explode in celebration of affection, attraction, _young love_ as sweet and pure as a young child’s laugh!”

The young lovers spring apart; Donghyuck’s hands release their hold on Mark’s moisture-frizzled hair, but don’t stay away for long. The teenagers press their foreheads back together and laugh in a funny little harmony.

“Is he actually talking about kids now?” Donghyuck giggles. “What’s wrong with him?”

“We should have seen this coming,” Mark sighs, a smile making its way through his annoyed frown.

Taeil shakes his umbrella at the teenagers. “I told you two rascals that getting your heads out of your arses would be worth it, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck answers. His delicate eyelashes flutter to his cheeks under Mark’s fond, fascinated gaze. He blows out a little laugh. “Guess you did.”

Taeil was only trying to make it sound it dramatic when he said it, but when he looks at the teenagers diving in for another fumbling kiss he thinks faraway stars might actually be bursting. And if not the stars, then at least the clouds have ruptured and raindrops clap against the play castle’s roof in applause.

 

 

 

 

 

“They told me not to tell you,” Taeyong starts with a sheepish smile, “but you know yesterday? When we heard a thump from Mark and Donghyuck’s room and I went to check on them?”

The bus stops at a red light. The group of young men has taken over the back of the vehicle, where they laugh and chatter. From the way Jaehyun’s leaning back a bit in the seat in front of him Taeil can tell that the other’s listening.

“They actually fell over while they were kissing,” Taeyong goes on. He seems almost excited about sharing the knowledge, leaning towards Taeil a bit and lowering his voice to the point the rumble of the bus’s engine almost drowns it out.

Jaehyun doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t listening in anymore. He turns around in his seat in surprise. “So that’s where the bruises came from?”

“Yeah,” Taeyong confirms after a startled pause. “Mark told me he got them because he was cushioning Donghyuck’s fall, but Donghyuck didn’t seem to agree.”

“Mark probably flailed on his way down and managed to hit a bedframe or something,” Jaehyun laughs. “Wouldn’t be his first time.”

“But they kissed. How come?” Taeil cuts in, going back to the original point.

“Apparently Donghyuck kept asking Mark about what you said to him, and then, well, I guess it just happened,” Taeyong answers. “They didn’t fill me in on any details.”

Taeil wonders who was the first to reach out for the other, and figures it must have been Donghyuck. He imagines the boy’s fingers threading through the other’s hair; he can see in his mind eye them tripping on one of the pieces of clothing Taeyong’s told them so many times to tidy away, and falling onto the ground still clinging onto each other. Taeyong opens the door and finds them on the floor, laughing into each other’s mouths.

Taeil gets startled out of his reverie. “Would you do some of your magic on my non-existent love life?” Jaehyun inquires with a mischievous smile.

“I charge five thousand won per hour.”

**Author's Note:**

> [silly little dojae spinoff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9199847)


End file.
